


As Blood Gleams Off An Errant Talon

by half_sleeping



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Dragons dragons all the time, F/M, Gen, Other, Serious Business, this could probably happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2012-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-01 18:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/half_sleeping/pseuds/half_sleeping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SPOILERS for Crucible of Gold. IMMENSE SPOILERS. Iskierka is challenged to possibly the most difficult thing she shall ever face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Female Of The Species

“Will somebody please explain to me,” said Iskierka, quite calmly, “Why it is that painted simpering garter snake has thrown paper at my head, when I have made clear I cannot read it?”  
“I beg of you not to say that you have set it alight,” said Hammond immediately.  “Might I remind you, any communication on the part of Chinese can only-“

“She had prepared more,” Iskierka said. “When I torched the first one she handed me another. And another. And then she flung this one at me and fled.”

“I will read it,” offered Temeraire, quite handsomely, he thought, when Iskierka had left him here with the egg to go gadding off merely to indulge her dislike of Mei and desire to be admired by the Chinese war-dragons. It was _both_ their egg, after all, it might not be said to be too taxing upon her to take her turn properly brooding it.

“You might as well,” said Iskierka dismissively. “Though I can’t imagine it will be any more interesting than the other sad poems she has tried to send you.”

“It would have been a great honour for her to have a Celestial egg,” Temeraire said, a little defensively. It was hard not to wish that Mei would not appear so…wet. “They aren’t used to the idea that Celestials would make eggs outside of Imperials here.”

“She does not have to take it out on _me_ ,” said Iskierka, with a flip of her smug tail, “If she was not _then_ going to have an egg, and then when someone else much better and experienced at fighting and who can breathe fire finally managed to coax you over your performance anxiety in order to _finally_ have an egg, it is certainly not my fault in any way.”

No one could deny the justice of this remark, unfortunately. Laurence and Granby exchanged rueful stares, the gist of which was that in all the excitement over fleeing the Incan Empire with barely the clothes on their backs, Temeraire and Iskierka had quite forgotten to tell anyone that they had made efforts towards propagating themselves, and caused no end of worry and confusion over Iskierka’s laying of the egg at, appropriately, the most inappropriate possible time.

Chinese reaction had, to say the least, been mixed.

“This is not for me,” said Temeraire, “It is addressed to you.”

“I am agog,” said Iskierka, who was certainly nothing of the sort.

“She…” said Temeraire. “She… Iskierka, you had better go and stick your head outside the pavilion, remember the egg is in here, and what happened last time.”

Iskierka snorted, but her rising curiosity was such that she did it, with the minimum of complaining about over-educated snobs.

“She….” said Temeraire again.

“Get on with it,” said Messoria, impatiently. The rest of the dragons chorused their agreement.

“She…wishes to challenge you,” said Temeraire reluctantly.

“…is this like that creature back in the Americas,” said Iskierka. “Does she imagine she will have some other dragon fight for her, like there?”

“No,” said Temeraire, ignoring Hammond’s despairing cry and the way he threw himself against Churki in horror. “She does not mean fight. She invites you to a poetry reading.”

“A _reading_?” snorted Iskierka.

“It is like sort of a party,” said Temeraire. “Each of you brings a selection of poems you have written, and you read them aloud, and everyone admires them, and then you all drink tea. And while you are sharing them, you look to see whose is the best out of them all.”

“Fascinating,” Iskierka purred. “Do move away from the egg, Temeraire.” She stretched out her neck and took aim, preparing to scorch the missive right out of his talons.

“Stop, stop,” said Temeraire. “There’s more. She also writes…she also writes…”

“Pray continue,” she said. Granby, sensing danger, stood and would have gone to her, but Laurence and Little both seized and cautioned him against it.

“She also writes,” said Temeraire, each word being dragged out of him as if on a hook. “That you may if you wish respond entirely in flame because- because-“

“I do wish you wouldn’t repeat yourself,” said Iskierka dangerously.

“Because everybody knows you are such a barbarian you cannot read or write,” Temeraire said all in a rush, and quite heroically flung himself lengthways immediately so as to shield Laurence, the egg and the crews as much as possible.

There was a moment of stillness so absolute that even her gently issuing steam seemed to freeze in the air. Then Iskierka stuck her head out through the window.

It was a curious sensation, they agreed later. The closest you could get to it was a sort of _whumph_ , and then the absence of air. But the light, and the heat, those painted themselves against your eyeballs, imprinted on your skin.

When Temeraire opened his eyes, Iskierka had put her head back in and was saying, “You may tell _Mei_ , Temeraire, that I accept.”


	2. Let Me Count The Ways

Temeraire returned from his mother’s palace with the intelligence that half the court was invited to watch Mei and Iskierka, as went the parlance, ‘have a philosophical discussion’, and the entire court, torn between the most exciting dragon to attend court in ages and one of their own, was transfixed by the spectacle.

“I would of course never lower myself to inquire into the court betting pool as gambling is for the lower classes and men of no moral fiber and Laurence does not approve of it,” said Temeraire, “But yes, the odds are running quite good for Iskierka burning all of Mei’s poetry before she can start reading it.”

“Ha,” said Immortalis triumphantly.

“That wouldn’t work, though,” said Lily. “She wrote them, surely she would have them memorized.”

On the other side of the pavilion, Granby was manfully squinting up his face and reciting “-is the east, and Juilet is the sun- no, it’s a metaphor, dear one, she’s supposed to be as beautiful _as_ the sun, not being burnt up-“

“I am sure that Iskierka will do quite well,” put in Kulingile loyally.

“I am sure of entirely the opposite,” said Messoria. “Iskierka hasn’t yet met a problem she can’t burn through, and you can’t change your hide.”

Everyone opinioned that this was indeed so.

“But she cannot, though,” said Temeraire. “If she does, she will prove Mei right anyway, and everyone will know that she is going to fight Mei because she cannot write poetry, which is as good as losing.”

“I don’t see why she _can’t_ write poetry,” said Immortalis. “There was a girl at Nantucket, something something bucket, that sort of thing. I’ve heard the crew at it, and the soldiers, those ones rhymed.”

“Chinese poetry is quite different from English poetry, only listen to what Berkley is reciting now,” said Temeraire. (“I wandered lonely as a cloud- well, just sort of looking at flowers, I think-“) “But you may tell us a few more of those; Iskierka,” disgruntled, “may know more of things from sailors, they do not sing those kinds of songs where Laurence can hear it.”

“I should hope not,” muttered Demane, consigned to their conversation by napping in the crook of Kulingile’s forearm.

“I don’t see why _we_ could not bet,” said Nitidus, while Lily consulted with Maximus and Immortalis on some ditty she only half-remembered. “I am sure we could easily win.”

“They are wagering jewels they do not want anymore and things like that,” said Temeraire. There was a moment of shocked silence as everyone contemplated having so many jewels that they would risk losing them for nearly nothing merely because they were tired of them, and shook their heads solemnly at the waste.

.0.

“-Naturally, I see now that clearly the Trojan’s great mistake in the siege of Troy was in not setting the wooden dragon on fire,” said Laurence, straining to recall the dregs of the classical education hammered into him by hapless tutors.

“I don’t see how any of this is interesting in the least,” said Iskierka. “Battles without dragons? How did anyone stand around listening to some blind human talk about this? How dull they must have been.”

“Mind you, that was probably true,” said Granby. “Still, those are the sort of things poetry tends to about, dear.”

“It is no wonder that _Mei_ is good at it, then, since the subjects suit her so well,” snorted Iskierka, and craning her head said quite clearly to the egg: “DO YOU HEAR ME? POETRY IS BORING. DO NOT BECOME A POET. TEMERAIRE IS ALWAYS WRONG.”

“What?” said that dragon, engaged in a knot of dragons a distance enough away from the impromptu teaching session that the Captains- or at least Hammond and Laurence both- could pretend they were not furiously gossiping about Iskierka’s chances of alienating the Chinese court entire.

She glared at him. “You might look a little sharp,” she said. “It’s your fault that I have to do this after all.”

“I do not see how your ego is my fault in the _slightest_ ,” said Temeraire. “And besides, you said you did not want my help. Except for Sipho, whom I have already lent you.”

“I do not _need_ your help,” said Iskierka. “And of course I needed him. No, I am talking of the kind of example you are setting for the egg.”

“What example am I setting for the egg?” said Temeraire.

“ _Exactly_ ,” said Iskierka, and pausing only to grab Sipho eeled out of the pavilion and away.


	3. Twenty Cannot Make Him Drink

“I am here,” Iskierka announced, “And you can give over pretending that you do not speak English; Temeraire can learn a language from a song and six cursewords.”

Chuan flattened his ruff in that familiar gesture. “What do you want,” he said, in that language. “And could you not simply bother Xiang about it, instead of coming all the way over here with all your noise like a barbarian.”

“No,” said Iskierka. “Explain to me about Chinese poetry.”

“No,” said Chuan. “Leave!” As though it would do him any good whatsoever.

“I have been all over the world,” said Iskierka primly, “And yet I have never seen such a lack of simple courtesy as in you two, you seem to think that you can do whatever you want, only because you can speak many languages and your captains are princes  and you are rich and you have the divine wind.”

“-yes,” said Chuan, confusedly. “What?”

“I intend to win this ridiculous poetry reading,” she sniffed. “You may assist me. It’s not like you are good at anything else.”

“I have said that I refuse,” said Chuan, ruff out. “Why should I help you anyway? It is no business of mine.”

“Because if that overdressed lizard is in any way shown to be vindicated in this matter, she is going to want to have a Celestial egg in order to prove that she won,” said Iskierka. “Since _he_ is occupied, obviously you are then going to have be the one who gives it to her. Is this clear to you yet?”

“It seems to follow,” said Chuan cautiously.

“And so, why was Temeraire chucked out of here in the first place?” She said impatiently. “You do not _need_ another Celestial cluttering up the place; your captain is already going to be the next Emperor. If you give her the egg, then when it hatches you will create no end of fuss about thrones and who is next going to be Emperor instead of your prince.”

“No one is going to be Emperor instead of Mianming!” flared up Chuan.

“If you want,” said Iskierka, staring very hard at him, “if- you do not have to give Mei a celestial egg. Then all of the trouble you are going to cause can be avoided. If I win the challenge.”

“I am Lung Tien Chuan,” he pointed out. “I could just _not_ give her an egg. And also a poetry reading is not a challenge.”

“But everyone will always be thinking, ‘she should have an egg’ or ‘she should have the next one’, and there will always be the expectation and then your life will become very uncomfortable, won’t it?” Iskierka said. “Better to avoid all this fuss beforehand by simply ensuring that all such ideas are driven out of her head.

“It will be good for her,” she added. “Free up more room for simpering at Temeraire.”

“Iskierka, what am _I_ here for?” demanded Sipho, tried at last.

“Oh, to take notes, obviously,” said Iskierka. “And to let us preserve the polite fiction of Temeraire’s clutchmate being too good to speak to us in our own language. Also you are my witness, so that when China has gone to wreck and ruin and is burning to the ground all because Chuan here is too afraid to help us and prevent a serious crisis, I can say ‘I told you so’, and everyone will know that I was right, because you will tell them all about it.”

“It will not!” said Chuan, but doubtfully. Iskierka had learned how to talk circles around the best of them (i.e. Temeraire), and the sheltered Celestial was perhaps a little too awed by his prince’s expansionary enthusiasm to be properly suspicious of everything that came out of Iskierka’s mouth. “Anyway, I do not know what you think you can do when you even cannot write, and you are too long out of the shell to learn how.”

“I do not intend,” said Iskierka, “to have to _write_.”

.0.

Eventually, Temeraire roused himself from interrogating the captains on Iskierka’s probable chances to leave the egg under Lily’s watchful eye and come with Demane to retrieve Sipho, Kulingile trailing after with all the diffidence and good nature of a tethered balloon. Temeraire thought this was not a little unreasonable; it was not as though he had been _bad_ at taking care of Demane, before, or that he could possibly take him away, or even that he would. It was most trying, and Iskierka’s behavior did not help in the slightest.  

“If you had wanted paper,” he said to Iskierka, “You might have just asked, the servants would have brought it.”

Chuan at least, Temeraire was _not_ mollified to see, flinched guiltily and left quite a sad streak on the paper where he had his talons wrapped around one of Iskierka’s, showing her how to use the ink brush. A plethora of discarded writing instruments lay scattered around Chuan’s actually fairly lovely garden, as well as reams and _reams_ of paper covered with what Temeraire could only assume was the sad remains of Iskierka’s scribbling.

“Penmanship,” said Iskierka, steaming gently and intent on her paper.

“Scribbling,” said Temeraire. “<And what are _you_ doing, >” he said to Chuan, in Chinese, since Chuan always would pretend not to hear when spoken to in English, even though it was perfectly obvious he could speak it. Kulingile, with an air of deep concentration, came over and also stared at whatever horror Iskierka was inflicting on the written language.

Chuan’s ruff twitched. “<Iskierka has requested my assistance and as host it could only have been my greatest obligation to provide whatever help she might require of me.>”

Temeraire stared at him. “<I understand,>” he said, “<She has come here, and she has talked at you, and then like the rest of them you have run mad, because of her talking at you.>”

“<Needlessly dramatic,>” said Chuan.

“<Reasonably accurate>,” said Sipho. “I would like to go back now,” he said to Demane. “Iskierka made me drop my book.”

“I would have thought you’d had enough of reading for today,” said Demane, but Kulingile reached over and picked Sipho up and then with a nod at the other celestial, flew away.

“That, obviously, is only if what you can call what you are getting up to _writing_ ,” said Temeraire to Iskierka.

“Something like,” she said, putting down the brush. “Anyway, I think I have enough to be going on with, you,” to Chuan, “May have these sent to the pavilion, and of course I will be back tomorrow.”

“Yes…” said Chuan, as if the words hurt him. “Of…course…" darting guilty looks at Temeraire all the while.

“Mad,” muttered Temeraire. “Utterly mad.”


	4. With A Wild Surmise

“This is ridiculous,” said Temeraire to what he could see of Iskierka.

“As you wish,” she said, safely behind the bulk of Maximus and Kulingile. A small passageway existed still between them, just about big enough for Temeraire to peer through and see the egg, and for the captains to pass through easily. Of course one only had to stretch out one’s head, or take a little height, to look over, but Iskierka had also thought of this, and after exhorting Lily to secrecy had somehow managed to convince the Longwing to arrange herself such that the sheer bulk of her wings made it quite impossible unless one tried very hard to see what it was Iskierka was doing, at which point someone would say something like “Temeraire can you see anything, what on earth is Iskierka doing,” and Iskierka would snort derisively and Laurence would begin to look alarmed and Lily would look over with a hint of disdain and _this was ridiculous_.

He turned his back on them, decisively. “Laurence,” he said, “Laurence, I believe that today we had better go flying, did you not say you wished to visit the markets- what are _you_ doing here,” he cut himself off, ruff flaring as Chuan picked his way into the pavilion and every other dragon turned to stare.

“I have come,” he said.

“Is he here, then?” Iskierka called. “He can come in, Lily, I have been expecting him.”

Chuan stared at Lily’s bone spurs, as she swung her head around to see him.  “He _is_ rather like you, isn’t he?” Lily observed, folding her wings. “Up you go, then.”

Chuan inclined his head dumbly to her, and Lily firmly opened her wings again just when Temeraire might have craned his neck just a little to see what Iskierka was doing in there-

“You can stop sneaking, you know,” said Iskierka. “I know what you are like.”

“I cannot _believe_ this,” said Temeraire, ruff expanding, and hastily Laurence was touching his foreleg and saying, “Yes, Temeraire, I believe I did, let us away before the best stalls are picked over.”

.0.

Nothing was ever quite so calming to Temeraire’s nerves as a nice long flight with only Laurence for company, not that the others were not also nice, but Laurence was certainly the nicest: his Chinese had been improving by leaps and bounds, and now they were going to pick out something nice to send to Lady Allendale, so that Temeraire might also enclose a letter to her, and wouldn’t she be happy to learn that Laurence had been restored to the Corps after all, and that the Emperor himself had lauded Laurence as he properly deserved. Temeraire did not particularly like Lord Allendale, but he supposed that not even he could find fault with how very well they had done in Brazil, given his own dislike of slavery. It was not necessary, Temeraire found, to _have_ to get something for him too, but as it was going to go to the same address it would have to be perfectly suitable to express that nothing else ever could have been better for Laurence than to be with Temeraire.

“Perhaps something to match the red vase,” he said to Laurence, remembering with a pang the last gift that they had picked up here.

“That would be pleasant,” said Laurence. “I cannot find, though, that we can be quite so sure of our transport, this time.” Which was true, as Temeraire did not think he would like to have to arrive back and say, sorry, I had something very nice but was unable to preserve it through the trip so it is gone now, which would be just as embarrassing as not having gotten anything nice in the first place.

“Some of that very nice porcelain,” Temeraire said. “The kind we saw in Sidney, you remember.” He sighed over a display, remembering gold edges, and brilliance flashing in the tropical sun. “Perhaps we could ask Shen Li, and she could bring some to the valley for us,” he suggested. “If it is hidden, then even when we go back, it would still be there, and if we could be sure of something nice when we return to complete the pavilion, it would quite make up for losing all that work.”

“If we could be certain of it being secure,” said Laurence, a little quellingly; he did not really relish the idea of having to eat off golden plates all the rest of his days, though certainly Temeraire would like it for himself very much.

“The bunyips would eat anyone who tried to come to and take it,” Temeraire pointed out, and as Laurence could come up with no particular answer to this, they spent the rest of the afternoon very happily trying to prevent vendors from beggaring themselves offering their wares to him, being as he was a Celestial, but obviously it embarrassed Laurence, and it was not as though they did not have gold.

.0.

“Tomorrow,” said Laurence, as they were flying back, and then hesitated. Their purchases were safely wrapped and Temeraire was confident that they could be shipped to the valley, at least, Shen Li or Tharunka would certainly see to it.

“Yes?” said Temeraire, mind occupied with rosy visions of the future, a vast horde of people, his own _ayllu_ , a whole valleyful! “Oh-“ he said, suddenly remembering, “Yes, tomorrow.”

“Is there any chance?” said Laurence. “If Chuan is helping her…”

“Iskierka cannot even speak Chinese,” Temeraire pointed out. But Laurence had chosen his moment well; he was sufficiently mollified to add, “Though she does seem rather confident, and Iskierka’s mad ideas do seem to come out tops rather than not, in the course of things. I suppose we can only wait and see what it is she intends to do.”

“Yes,” said Laurence, and did not say, _but what about you?_


	5. The Physical Impossibility

“I know nothing,” said Granby. “I have washed my hands of it- hand,” he corrected himself. “She assures me only that she does not intend to do violence unto Mei’s person, and you can imagine that _that_ issuing from her mouth stopped all further interrogation, I was stunned for hours after.”

She had even sent Granby ahead by Temeraire, telling him to take a good seat and- seizing her chance- to put on the nicer of the coats she had managed to have him agree to, bemused by her apparent compliance, he had done so, and therefore Laurence was also being subject to Temeraire’s sighs over yet another refusal to put on the cherished opal-bedecked robes, and could only ignore it by pursuing the subject of the afternoon’s outcome with a enthusiasm he would otherwise have avoided for the sake of Granby’s nerves. They were sitting at near a pool rather similar to Qian’s but not so covered with flowers and considerably larger; Hammond had gathered it was somewhat of a public area, for the use of all the dragons of the court, most of whom were arriving now and murmuring to each other in low, excited voices.  Mei’s own companion had been deposited by her in a place of pride, and held in his arms a number of scrolls; he was a younger prince, himself, and tried valiantly to exchange hostile glares with Granby, but only succeed in transmitting despairing, wordless looks of resignation and worry in both directions. She held herself a little apart and head high: vibrating a little with anticipation but proud and waiting.

“Good job that pond’s there,” said Chenery, voicing a common thought. “Anytime she likes, she can dive into it, douse the flames, and wait until Iskierka gets bored and flies away.”

Several of the court dragons had also made great inroads into the English language, and as Chenery had spoken loud enough for all of their party to hear, there was a sudden spate of choked noises, as though massive frogs had gotten stuck in meters-long throats.

Temeraire had not liked to bring the egg, but since exactly no one had volunteered to stay behind, and Iskierka had merely blown steam at him when he tried to use it as a reason for her to miss the reading, he settled it in the middle of their knot: almost a slap direct to Mei, but _someone_ had to look after the egg, and it was obviously not going to be Iskierka.

“As though _she_ were any one to talk about the example being set for you,” he said to it.

The egg was unmoved.

“Do you think,” said Nitidus a bit dreamily, “That she really will sing some of those songs? You remember, the ones that-“

“Hem,” said Captain Warren, warningly.

“Iskierka also swears,” his dragon told him smugly. “The army taught her bad language.”

But coming down over them was Iskierka’s coiling shadow, and she jetted steam as she landed so that its wisps wreathed about her claws, and, possibly coincidentally, began to get Mei’s poems wet.

“I am here,” she announced. “We may begin.”

.0.

“Mei’s doing quite well,” whispered Temeraire penetratingly to Laurence. “She’s now comparing Iskierka to a sea cucumber, but I understand those are delicious and were the fourth course last week at the banquet. Iskierka’s turn is coming soon, it should be interesting.”

“What on earth is she doing?” came the penetrating whispers, far above Laurence’s head.

“I think that Iskierka is…” said some dragon, “Making marks on the paper she has right now? Is she writing? Can she write now?”

“She’s painting,” said Lily impatiently. “She said if any of you were being particularly stupid I could tell you, and you are. Obviously she is painting.”

“Iskierka can paint?” said Temeraire blankly. “Laurence, can you see?  

“Iskierka…can paint… well?” said Laurence, just as blankly. “She seems to be quite industrious.”

“I don’t think I am sophisticated enough to understand this,” said Granby, blankest of all. “Is- she lifting it? Is this allowed?”

Around them, talons clicked in uncertain approval while Chuan lifted his head and clicked with unqualified approval, and Mei watched with what could only be called open contempt.

And then there was a bright flash and it was over, and dragons were roaring in- Laurence was never sure, was it alarm or approval, and colours dancing through the air, Iskerika coiling through it all with alarming, intense focus.

(“But of course,” Chuan said later, luckily without Temeraire having to lower himself to ask, a touch wistfully and with the intensity of a fanatic. “The fury of battle! The ash of your defeated enemies! The shadow of death cast upon the earth! And all in charcoal and ink, which as you should know is quite difficult to work with, and with such delicacy! A masterpiece in texture and contrast. And then she set the paper on fire, and also all the fireworks, which highlights the delicacy and impermanence of art . Magnificent! A new milestone in performace! I’ve told everyone! They all agree with me! Tell that harridan we are ‘square’.”)

.0.

“Do you know,” Iskierka said later, “I do think I may be getting the hang of this diplomacy stuff. Not much in it, is there?”

“She didn’t set anything structural on fire and no one particularly important was insulted beyond repair,” Granby said to Hammond. “Take the victory, I beg of you. And let us never speak of it again.”


End file.
